It became so stifling that Augustine ran out of spit and was forced to lick her lips.

The room smelled of the heat and of the working women.

The white lilies in the jar were beginning to fade, yet they still exuded a pure and strong perfume.
Coupeau's heavy snores were heard like the regular ticking of a huge clock, setting the tempo for the heavy labor in the shop.
On the morrow of his carouses, the zinc-worker always had a headache, a splitting headache which kept him all day with his hair uncombed, his breath offensive, and his mouth all swollen and askew.

He got up late on those days, not shaking the fleas off till about eight o'clock; and he would hang about the shop, unable to make up his mind to start off to his work.

It was another day lost.